One of the riders who knowed The Cougar _mighty well_ had watched the horse "come out" with the same thrill that'd always been his at that time. He'd seen the pony come out many a time before, and as that last performance came to an end, he leaned over to one of the boys near him, and says: "Do you know, it strikes me like The Cougar is beginning to fade out as a bucking horse. I don't think that pony's been keeping up his standard the last few times he's been rode, and specially this last time.--If that cowboy who's just left him had straddled him last summer, I'm sure and certain that he wouldn't of stuck as long as he did." "Well, I've been sort of noticing that too, and figgered the horse had slowed down some," agrees the other rider, "but that's got to be expected, considering that The Cougar's been in the arenas for going on six years now--I don't see, myself, how them legs of his has been able to stand the strain _that_ long." Them remarks was true,--nothing was meant against the cowboy who'd been the first to stick him past the judges; and as them words was said they meant just that, with no hint that _they_ could of done the same, and what's more, other cowboys had noticed the same what these two had spoke of. The Cougar was beginning to slow down,--but that last would maybe give some idea of what a bucking horse The Cougar really was, _or had been_. That pony slowing down that way begin to be noticed more and more every time he was rode. The little vaquero from acrost the border went back satisfied that fall: he'd been the second man to _ride_ The Cougar, and when the last rodeo of the year had been pulled off The Cougar had been rode twice more, _and to a finish_. The folks in the grandstands was surprised, and come to the conclusion that he wasn't so much of a bucking horse after all, but they didn't realize.--Anyway, the thousand dollar purse that'd been offered for anyone who could ride him had dwindled down to five hundred, and The Cougar was fast losing the reputation he'd made as a man-hating bucking horse. Even his hate for the human had seemed to die down. He'd throwed a rider one day who'd landed right in front of him; the crowd had held their breath, expecting to see that cowboy mangled to pieces right before their eyes. All that would of happened, and mighty quick a year or so before, but this time the outlaw didn't seem to notice the man. He'd bucked on right over him and seeming like careful how he placed his hoofs as he'd went so as to miss him.--There was murmurs in the grandstand afterwards that The Cougar was no outlaw at all, maybe just a pet and trained to buck, and like his man killing reputation, which was most likely only a sort of a draw card and advertising for the rodeo.